


Family is Relative

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter mentioning of Mother's Day brings back some unpleasant memories for Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family is Relative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



As soon as he spotted Neal arriving, Peter got out of his office and leaning on the railing, he called him to his office.

Neal dropped his hat on his desk and quickly walked to Peter’s office.

“Close the door,” Peter said as Neal walked in.

Neal frowned, instantly worried. “Am I in trouble?”

Peter scowled for a second but then burst into a brief laugh. “I guess I deserve that one. No, Neal, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to make sure Diana doesn’t overhear us.”

“Why is that?”

“Mother’s Day is next week. And it’s Diana’s first as a mom. All the division is chipping in to make her a little gift to celebrate.” Peter pointed at a coffee mug filled by a few bills.

“Ah,” Neal said flatly.

Peter cleared his throat. “So, hum, I was thinking maybe you could help me go shopping for her?”

Neal looked suddenly ill-at-ease and got up. “Sorry, Peter,” he said quickly, “I can’t. I have my report to finish.”

Peter wasn’t prepared for such a rebuff. “It doesn’t have to be today…”

Neal took his wallet out. “Will twenty do?”

“Or ten, or five. Whatever you want.”

Neal put a bill in the cup and left Peter’s office without a word, leaving a dumbfounded Peter who had no idea what had just happened.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

It didn’t take long for Peter to connect the dots. Neal didn’t have any issues with Diana, so it had to have something to do with Mother’s Day. Neal never talked about his mother. Peter wasn’t even sure she was alive. The thought to try to find more information on her briefly crossed his mind, but she was in WitSec for a reason.

But maybe he could try and find out a little more from Neal himself.

He waited for the right moment. A moment where it’d be just the two of them. But Neal became suddenly elusive, either appearing very busy, or disappearing without notice. A moment finally happened two days later, while they had a short walk to go to the crime scene.

“I’m sorry about the other day, Neal. I didn’t realize how sensitive the subject was.”

Neal shrugged. “It’s okay.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Peter wasn’t sure how to make Neal open up.

“Look,” he started.

But Neal cut him off quickly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. If you ever want to…”

“I don’t, Peter, I really don’t.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

A few days passed, and to Neal’s relief, Peter didn’t bring the subject up again. He felt bad, shutting Peter down, but he was afraid that he would feel even worse if he had to talk about it. Peter wouldn’t understand anyway. Peter had the perfect childhood with two loving parents who surely swooned the exact perfect way every year for each stupid noodle necklace their prodigious son made.

The image of Peter Burke making noodle necklaces did manage to briefly bring a smile on his face.

Which was exactly the moment Peter chose to show up at his desk. Luckily, he had his nose in a file, which gave Neal a moment to compose a more appropriate face.

Peter looked up from his file and handed it to Neal, who in return shot him a perfectly professional smile.

“This is our list of suspected fences for the Asimov case. You think you could check with some of your secret street contacts if any of them acquired Syrian antiquities recently?”

“Sure. Can I go now?” Anything to avoid that case report he was currently struggling with.

Peter smiled. “That’d be great. Oh and before I forget, Elizabeth wants to go see that sculpture exhibit at the MoMA this Sunday. Interested?”

“The Calder exhibit? I’ve been dying to see it.”

Peter grinned. “Deal then. Meet us there at 2 PM.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Something was off, Neal could feel it. There had to be a catch. Peter offering to take him to a Museum, precisely the exhibit Neal had been raving about, and on a Sunday? The agent was plotting something, only Neal couldn’t figure out what it was.

It wasn’t until he came back to the office, later in the afternoon, that he figured it out. The coffee area seemed disordered. Additional chairs had been brought and left there. The table was clean but there were crumbs on the floor. And there was an empty bottle of cheap champagne in the trash.

Then he saw the teddy bear seating on Diana’s desk and it clicked. They had a little celebration for Diana while he was gone, on a mission assigned by Peter.

He looked up at his friend who seemed now hard at work in his office. Neal swallowed the lump in his throat, and climbed the stairs to Peter’s office.

He lightly knocked on the door before letting himself in. Peter looked up and smiled. “Any lead?”

Neal realized a little late that he had forgotten the file on his desk. “Hum, yes, Rumer. He’s trying to sell antiquities.”

“Good,” Peter nodded.

“Thank you,” he said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“For sparing me the Mother’s Day party.”

Peter made a contrite smile. “Anytime, Neal. Especially when it means making you work when everyone else is taking a break.”

“But you don’t have to change your weekend plans for me. I didn’t realize it was Mother’s Day. Surely you had other plans. Don’t you usually go visit your parents?”

Peter shrugged. “We’ll just go next weekend. Besides, it’s too late to back off. I’ve already told El you would be joining us, and she’s delighted.”

Neal hesitated a second and finally sat down.

“You’ll probably think this is silly for a grown-up but…” He passed a nervous hand in his hair. “You know when you’re a kid, they always make you do those crafty things for Mother’s Day at school?”

Peter nodded.

“I was five or six. I had made a beautiful set of little salt dough figures of me, Ellen, my mom and my dad – my family. I was worshipping my dad, I wanted him to remain a part of our family. I had put a lot of effort and love into it, I wanted it to be perfect. But it upset my mom. She smashed it. She was drunk, of course. I didn’t know the whole story, I couldn’t understand. The following years, I wanted my Mother’s Day gifts to be for Ellen – who really was more a mother to me than my real mother – but I was told I couldn’t choose my mother. So I started hating Mother’s Day and year after year my resentment just kept growing. Anyway, that’s the silly story why I hate Mother’s Day.”

“This is not silly, Neal,” Peter said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Neal sighed. “It was a long time ago.”

“Thank you for sharing with me.”

Neal smiled. “Thank you for taking me to the MoMA.”

 

 


End file.
